


Stay For One More Drink

by oncethrown



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Gap Filler, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-14
Updated: 2016-05-14
Packaged: 2018-06-08 07:11:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6844345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oncethrown/pseuds/oncethrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec Lightwood knows better than to stay in Magnus's apartment for one more drink. </p><p>After Bad Blood</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stay For One More Drink

Magnus tossed a sheet over the mostly-clean side of the couch and, with a flourish, indicated that Alec should sit.

Alec watched Magnus out of the corner of his eye as he walked across the bare, open floor of Magnus’s loft, and sat down. The couch was surprisingly comfortable. Magnus took a seat on the other side.

Here they were.

He took another sip from the glass Magnus had handed him. The taste didn’t come as a shock this time, but it was still disgusting. Like pine trees and chicken soup.

So stop drinking it. A voice in Alec’s head sneered. What do you think you’re doing, having a nice social drink? In a downworlder’s apartment? In the middle of the night?

Alec glanced up at Magnus.

When he keeps looking at you like that.

Magnus was watching him with a soft smile teasing the corners of his very pink, and somewhat shiny lips. He must have some kind of make-up on them.

“Thank you,” Magnus said quietly.

“For what?”

“For coming here. Helping me heal Luke.”

Alec looked down into his glass. The little blue cloud of magic was still swirling over the liquid in the glass. Alec wondered if it did anything, or if it was just a decoration.

“Anyone would have done it.” He took another sip from the glass, bigger this time, and didn’t manage to hide the grimace as the taste hit his tongue again.

Magnus laughed. “You don’t have to drink that if you hate it. I could make you a thousand other things.”

Magnus’s laugh was nice. Warm and sincere.

“I didn’t want to be rude,” Alec said.

“What kind of host would I be if I forced you to finish something that is contorting your gorgeous face like that?”

A warm glow suffused Alec at these words, running along the middle of his body and up into his cheeks. He thought for a moment that the alcohol was finally taking effect, but that’s not what it was. It was Magnus.

He shouldn’t talk to you like that. You shouldn’t even be here.

Magnus launched himself off the couch, coming to his toes like a dancer before reaching out for Alec’s glass.

Their fingertips touched as Alec handed it over.

Glasses in hand, Magnus returned to the golden drink cart of the far side of the loft’s main room. Alec wondered if the cart was real gold. Warlocks, especially High Warlocks, had low expenses and demanded exorbitant fees. Before the Accords had been signed, plenty of Shadowhunters had become fabulously wealthy by killing the right Warlocks and taking their possessions as spoils.

And this Warlock is old enough to remember all of that.

“Alright,” Magnus’s voice was accompanied by a ring of crystal as he set the glasses down. “So, a gin martini with dry vermouth is simple, masculine, classic.” Magnus turned around and gave Alec another soft smile. It made the glitter around his eyes shine. “Not to your taste.”

“Sorry. It’s a little bitter.”

Magnus turned back to the tiers of bottles. “So you have more of a sweet tooth.”

“I mean, not really,” Alec said. He felt sluggish and deeply uninteresting. A big black crow next to Magnus’s shine and color flittering around the apartment and pecking at the drink cart.

Magnus continued to pick up bottles, inspecting the labels before setting them back down.

“I like wine,” Alec offered. He’d had a glass once or twice at Clave functions. Mostly the glass in his hand gave him an excuse to leave conversations. He would pretend he needed to refresh his glass and excuse himself. He never ended up drinking more than half a glass. The idea of being even a little bit impaired around other Shadowhunters was terrifying.

And yet, here you are. Exhausted and letting a warlock get you drunk.

Magnus made a sound between his teeth. “All of the wines I have at hand are complicated old vintages meant for long conversations catching up with old friends.”

That could have been a slight. Maybe Magnus didn’t want to waste expensive wine that was older than Alec was. But Alec didn’t think so.

“What are cocktails for?” Alec asked.

“Getting to know new friends,” Magnus replied. He took a clean glass down from the rack above cart. “If I weren’t a little… depleted, I’d make you a Mai Tai. But it’s just not worth it without the fruit slices and paper umbrellas.”

Something in Alec’s stomach twisted at the thought of sitting across the couch from Magnus drinking a parade float of a drink with Magnus watching him.

“Nothing too…” he searched for a word that wouldn’t offend someone wearing makeup and a glittery tunic. “Involved.”

“I was very partial to Mai Tais in the 1950’s. Ragnor used to refuse to speak to me whenever I ordered one in public.”

“Ragnor Fell?” Alec asked, glad to have something in the conversation to grasp on to. He didn’t know anything about drinks. “He taught my parents in Idris.”

“I’m sure they have stories about the terrible old curmudgeon.” Magnus laughed.

“They don’t talk much about Idris,” Alec replied. He wondered if Magnus had ever met his parents when they were younger. But he didn’t want to talk about his parents right now.

What would they say if they knew you were here? The voice in his head hissed at him. He tried to push it away.

What would they say if they knew why you were here?

“So. Nothing too fanciful. Nothing too sweet. Nothing too dry and modern,” Magnus summarized.

Magnus’s shirt waved and glistened as the warlock moved continuing to inspect the bottles on the shelf. Alec swallowed hard as he thought about the way Magnus had felt in his arms. He’d expected him to be… light. Breakable. But he’d been solid. Alec remembered the strange, warm shock of feeling the hard muscle under Magnus’s silky shirt.

Alec had never actually… touched another man. He’d thought about it enough times. There was no real reason he couldn’t have just gone to some mundane club to experiment. He’d almost done it once or twice. After a mission gone sour, or some night when it all got to be too much and he knew that if he didn’t find some way to blow off steam he was going to go home and jerk off thinking about Jace and hate himself for it afterward.

But he’d never actually done it.

Magnus’s tinkering grew more focused and, after a moment of hesitation, Alec stood and went over to him. Magnus looked up from his work to give him that look again. A squashed smile, like he was… delighted Alec had agreed to stay, but didn’t want to show how much.

“What were you drinking?” Alec asked.

Magnus held the glass out to him. Alec took it, letting their fingertips touch again.

You are playing with fire.

“Scotch and water.”

Alec lifted the glass to his mouth. The other side of the glass had a light pink impression on it. In the shape of Magnus’s lips. Alec felt his heart flutter as he tipped a little too much of the amber liquid into his mouth and coughed with the sting of it.

Magnus laughed and took the glass back.

“That has water in it?” Alec asked.

“Well,” Magnus replied. “Traditionally a scotch and water does not really have any water in it.”

“This cocktail thing is complicated.”

“Not to worry. I think I have just the thing.” Magnus dropped a cherry into the glass he’d been preparing and pulled something that looked a like a pestle out of a container, then used it to mush the cherry before he started pouring liquid out of different sized bottles into the glass on top of it. He finished it off with a sprinkle of sugar, then stirred it with great ceremony.

He held it out to Alec. “An Old Fashioned. Not bitter, but not too sweet. Always in style and just complicated enough to be sexy.”

Alec took the glass from him. He almost said something in reply, something like, “Just like you,” but the words wouldn’t come out and the moment passed. Instead, he said “Thank you,” and took a sip.

“Is that more what you were looking for?”

Alec nodded. Together, they returned to the couch, and this time, Alec took a little bit of a risk. Instead of sitting right at the edge, he settled down a little closer to the middle. Magnus did the same.

“You’re wrong you know,” Magnus said.

“About what?”

“It’s not true that anyone would have done what you did. And the vast majority of Shadowhunters would not have come to help a warlock save a werewolf.”

“Lucien Graymark is the leader of the New York pack. He’s an important ally.”

“He’s basically Clary’s father.”

“And both Clary and Jace would have let you use their energy. And Luke was dying. Why did you need me? I don’t think you’d put Luke at risk just to see me again.”

Magnus’s eyes widened for just a moment before he looked down at his drink and pressed his lips together. Alec nearly opened his mouth to press Magnus again, but waited, leaving a silence there for the other man to fill.

“The source of the energy matters. Clary and Jace have an… uncontained aspect to them. I’ve never seen it before. It was too much of a risk to take it on. And to take on Clary’s strength, with her father dying in front of her? It could have been unpredictable. I thought you were the most likely to stay focused.”

Alec wasn’t sure if he was annoyed or pleased that Magnus saw him as predictable. Everyone saw him as predictable. He was so fucking sick of being predictable.

Magnus drank from his glass and looked back up at Alec. “And, I’m sure you noticed, it takes vulnerability to make that type of connection. Intimacy.”

Alec shivered at the word. “So Jace wasn’t an option either way.”

“No,” Magnus said.

Glancing down between them, Alec saw the length of black leather that separated them was smaller. Magnus had somehow managed to inch closer to Alec without Alec noticing. Was that magic or finesse?

“What did you tell Jace? What was the lie about why you needed me?”

Magnus grinned broadly. “Nothing that is going to be of any consequence in the long run.”

His smile was just as intoxicating as the Old Fashioned. Alec felt the same grin spreading across his own face.

The conversation turned warm and easy. Alec wondered if the alcohol or his exhaustion was lowering his defenses more as he let himself smile, and laugh at Magnus’s jokes and expressive face.

He felt more relaxed here than he had in years. They had another drink. The only thing in this room that seemed to demand any action at all was the ever-shrinking space between Magnus’s knee and his own. He couldn’t stop staring at it.

He could cross that space. Magnus would let him. He could let his knee bump into Magnus’s. Set his hand over it. He could probably lose his head altogether, lean all the way across the tiny space between them now and press his lips to Magnus’s.

“Alec? Alec?”

Alec shook his head, snapping back to reality. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

Magnus’s smile was kind. “I was saying that you look tired, and I’m ready to call it a night myself.”

Alec nodded, suddenly realizing how drained he really felt. His eyelids were heavy and even the small glass in his hand seemed like too much to keep holding.

“Yeah. Yeah. You’re right.” He shook his head again and slid his hand into his pocket to retrieve his phone. It was nearly three in the morning. “Oh. Shit. I should get back to the Institute.” He started to lift himself up to his feet, but Magnus’s out-thrown hand stopped him.

“It’s late. You’re exhausted and I think a little bit drunk. Stay here.”

The suggestion sent chills down Alec’s spine. He could, he realized. He had every excuse. He crashed hard after helping Magus save Luke. Clary, Jace, and Luke had all seen him. Magnus had crumbled. Everyone had seen him too. And Magnus was an important ally to the Clave, with historically complicated relationships with Shadowhunters. Alec could easily justify staying behind to make sure Magnus was all right. Diplomacy was part of his job. With Valentine ascending again, alliances with powerful downworlders like Magnus and Luke were critical.

Exactly. So if you do something to screw this up, not only will you disgrace yourself, you’ll put everyone in danger.

“Tonight was fun, but I can’t. I just-“

Magnus plucked Alec’s empty glass from his hand. “I’m afraid I have to insist. I can’t portal you back to the Institute and I won’t have Maryse Lightwood and half the New York Institute banging on my door in the morning if you drop from exhaustion on the train and never make it back.”

He had a point. Alec’s vision was starting to swim. He could make it back to the Institute, but if he didn’t have to…

“Okay. I’ll stay.”

Alec got to his feet. Magnus was still watching him, doing that little shoulder shake thing he sometimes did.

This was Alec’s chance. Two steps. That was it. Two steps forward and he could kiss Magnus.

“I’ll make up the guest room,” Magnus said after a moment’s silence. He turned away, deposited their glasses on the drink cart, and walked down the hallway. Alec had to admit to himself that he was more relieved than disappointed. He stood awkwardly in the main room while he waited for Magnus to come back, which he did after only a few minutes.

“There’s a glass of water on the nightstand. I suggest you drink it, you’ll feel better in the morning. I fluffed the pillows and laid out a pair of pajamas that I think will fit you. Everything but a mint on the pillow.”

Alec nodded. “Thank you.”

“Last door on the left.”

Part of Alec almost wanted to try to kiss Magnus again, before he walked past, but he knew it was the tired part of him. The part that had had a little too much to drink. He didn’t want to do it if it wasn’t going to be right.

“Goodnight, Alexander. Sweet dreams.”

“You too.”

Magnus’s eyes moved down Alec’s full height and back up before he smiled again. “I’m sure they will be.”

The pajamas Magnus had set out were simple blue cotton, which was a surprise. Alec had been expecting silk, probably in an extreme color. Pink, probably. Alec drank the water while he changed into them. They smelled nice, like lemon and basil.

He was already starting to drift off as he dropped his head back on the huge, soft pillows.

How are you going to explain this in the morning?

I will figure that out later, Alec thought, before he succumbed to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like my stories, please recommend them on tumblr. 
> 
> Or follow me: @sohavelocksaid


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